


a different kind of blue

by lost_decade



Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Crushes, Friendship, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: Jev’s breath catches in his throat, he takes a long, slow sip of his beer while he steadies his thoughts. “I’d probably miss me too, if I was you,” he decides on.





	a different kind of blue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last week inspired by one of Andrea's instagram posts and then completely forgot to do anything with it. Basically indulging myself because I love these two as teammates and I'm going to miss them dammit! Enjoy :)

Jean-Eric never imagined anyone’s eyes could be so blue. It annoys him, how he feels he should be able to come up with some kind of poetic description for them. He’s French after all, he should be good at romance, and generally he is. With women. With his teammate - _former_ teammate, his mind helpfully supplies, any kind of cool seems to desert him.

He can’t pretend he wasn’t disappointed when Roman told him in a casual but pointed way, that Pizzi hadn’t resigned for the team. Sitting there louchely smoking a cigarette in front of the Trevi Fountain, already on his third espresso since they sat down, hands clasped together, almost disinterested as he’d told Jean-Éric _we’re going with Van Uitert_. Jev’s latte had sloshed over into the saucer as he’d looked away, wondering if his crush had anything to do with it even as the very thought seemed the kind of paranoid he hasn’t felt since at least 2014.

 _Cerulean,_ he thinks. Or azure, although no, there’s more green in them than that.

“You want another?” Andrea asks, causing Jev to realise he’s been sitting there staring with an empty beer bottle raised to his lips for more seconds than is probably acceptable for someone you’re just supposed to be friends with.

Another sounds good. Another sounds fucking great actually and he accepts, picking a stray clam out of the remains of his linguine vongole as Andrea disappears towards the back of the restaurant. The late afternoon sun is warm on his skin, his forearms starting to pick up a tan that will see him through the summer. The glow he feels is from more than just the weather though, partly from the win in Sanya but even more it’s from having good people around him, from being in a place in his life where he wants to be.

Jean-Éric raises an eyebrow when Andrea returns with their drinks, giving himself a mental pat on the back for refraining from commenting on the different brand of beer. Obviously his face gives away enough that Andrea notices and has to go and mention it, clinking the neck of his own bottle against Jev’s and moving his chair a fraction closer as if they’re about to discuss something more important than lager, lager which isn’t really all that given how the last time Jev had a drink it was from a jeroboam of champagne on the top step of a podium. They both take a sip, Jev stretching his foot out and pulling the chair opposite a bit closer so he can rest his feet on it, looking out at the white sands of La Grande-Motte and the ocean calm beyond. Beneath the table, Gerard snuffles, putting his paws up on the chair leg and looking hopefully up at Jean-Éric, the pug settling for a scratch behind the ears rather than the food he was really after.

“You still see him?” Andrea asks, confusing Jev for a moment until he catches on, running his thumb over the _Blue Coast Brewing_ label on the beer bottle, thinking idly about Dan, about Dan’s eyes, Dan’s hands on him.

“Not often,” he shrugs, glancing inquisitively at Andrea, mildly disappointed to find he’s slipped his sunglasses on. “Occasionally at some races, but it’s not really friends anymore. You know how it is when you’re kids and then it all changes.” He doesn’t say that he’d texted Dan a few times towards the end of last year after some of the worse races, unable to bear seeing him look so lost and hurt. He hadn’t been waiting for a reply and had refused to let it bother him when there wasn’t one.

Andrea hums in agreement, leaning his head against Jean-Éric’s shoulder. “You’re not going to ditch me now we’re not on the same team, are you?” He’s joking, but Jean-Éric is sure he can hear something else in his voice.

“Never, just don’t expect that I won’t race you hard.”

“Likewise. I missed you, you know. At testing. It wasn’t the same.”

Jev’s breath catches in his throat, he takes a long, slow sip of his beer while he steadies his thoughts. “I’d probably miss me too, if I was you,” he decides on, _not brave enough_ , feeling Andrea shake with laughter beside him and earning himself an elbow in the ribs. He exhales slowly, slipping an arm around Andrea’s neck and hugging him close good naturedly. “I was sad though, when I found out you weren’t on the team this year. I like winning with you.”

Andrea nuzzles his face against Jean-Éric’s neck in a way that makes Jev’s knees go weak. The ocean spray carried in on the breeze makes him feel like it’s summer, even though they’re not even into April yet, still a long way to summer break, a lot of battles to fight. Andrea reaches between them to pet Gerard, splaying his fingers out to rest on Jean-Éric’s thigh when he straightens up, drumming lightly against the denim just above where the material meets the skin of his thigh. It’s relaxing. “I like doing anything with you, man,” Jean-Éric follows up before he can stop himself.

“I know,” Andrea replies, giggling as his lips touch Jean-Éric’s neck, almost nothing; enough to elicit a shiver. Something about him makes Jev feel younger, lighter. Maybe it’s because he’s untainted by F1, hasn’t held a dream in his hand and seen in shatter.

They walk down the beach after lunch, Gerard running ahead and digging in the wet sand, rolling in it as Andrea takes a photo. Jev pulls out his Leica, trying to capture the reflection of the low sun on the water as Andrea calls Liza, listening to him arranging plans for the evening and what time they’ll meet up with her and Lorene, which club they’re going to.

 _Early morning sky_ , he thinks, when Andrea takes off the sunglasses and hooks them into his t-shirt.

 


End file.
